


Freefall

by ArianneMaya



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Angst, Dubious Consent, M/M, Unhappy Ending, Unrequited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 08:18:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15287520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArianneMaya/pseuds/ArianneMaya
Summary: Juuse should have been looking forward to this moment, should have wanted nothing more than the sight of Pekka on his knees, waiting for Juuse’s orders.Instead, the way Pekka locks his hands together behind his back, making it clear that he won’t make a move until Juuse wills it so, fills Juuse with dread.





	Freefall

**Author's Note:**

> If you need more details about the dubcon tag, I put them at the end.

For Juuse, this is the best part of winning a game: Pekka pressing him into the wall, devouring his mouth with kisses, and telling him how well he played, how amazing he was. He feels like he’s walking on air, like he could do anything he puts his mind to. 

That is, until, after one last, hungry kiss on Juuse’s mouth, Pekka drops to his knees, looking up at him. 

Juuse should have been looking forward to this moment, should have wanted nothing more than the sight of Pekka on his knees, waiting for Juuse’s orders. 

Instead, the way Pekka locks his hands together behind his back, making it clear that he won’t make a move until Juuse wills it so, fills Juuse with dread. 

He’d known this would happen, of course. There’s a reason why he lies every time someone asks about his dynamic. 

Back in Milwaukee, he’d thought it would be easy. Fake it ‘till you make it, and all that. He’s always known that he wanted the NHL, that he didn’t want to be stuck in the minors or to spend his whole career as some other goalie’s backup. For that to happen, everybody needs to believe he's a switch. 

And while teams are supposed to have moved beyond the idea that some dynamics are better suited for some positions on the ice, for goalies, that never happened. Exclusive doms never make it to the big show; exclusive subs, if they do make it, never become starters. 

Switches, who can be the backbone of the team when they're on the ice, and be serving the needs of the team when they’re on the bench, are the only ones who get to make something of their career. 

On another team, maybe Juuse would have had a chance. Maybe he could have told himself he was only doing this because it was what the other goalie wanted, and believed it. 

With Pekka, he can’t. Not when Pekka’s sole presence is enough to make Juuse want, desperately, to drop to his knees and stay there. To be Pekka’s in every possible way, however Pekka wants him. 

Some of his panic has to show on his face, no matter how hard he’s trying to hide it, because Pekka brings his hands to Juuse’s thighs in a gentle caress, and says, “I can see the wheels turning in your head. One step at a time, remember? You don’t have to get everything right all at once.”

Juuse lets out a breath, glad that he has his lack of experience to fall back on. Pekka won’t guess, he can’t. As far as he’s concerned, it’s clear that Juuse never explored his dom side much, the he needs someone who can keep a clear head and tell him what he’s doing right, someone who won’t go under too fast and who can guide him while Juuse’s still trying to figure out where the boundaries are. 

He’s said as much, the first time they talked about it. 

So it’s easy for Juuse not to feel like he’s showing too much when he admits, “I don’t know what to do.” 

“Stop overthinking it. Just tell me what you want.” 

Juuse can’t. What he wants is for his Daddy to hold him and tell him how amazing he played. What he wants is a _reward_ , but tonight, he’s supposed to top. 

Pekka says, again, “Please, tell me what you want me to do to you,” and _oh_ , with the way he rephrased it, he has to understand, if only a little, even though he keeps himself all sweet and submissive, the way that should make Juuse’s dom side roar to the surface. 

Except Juuse doesn’t have a dom side. But nobody can know that. Especially not Pekka. 

Still, Juuse clings to Pekka’s words. Even with the plea, they almost sound like an order, and it’s enough to make him say, “How about we move this to the bedroom?”

He wants to kick himself for how uncertain he sounds.

Pekka, however, has to think that it’s only Juuse’s inexperience showing, because he offers him a blinding smile and says, “Lead the way.” 

A couple of minutes is all Juuse needs. A moment to allow himself to freak out for real, to try and untangle what he can ask for, now, from the way he really wants things to happen. 

The solution hits him all at once. If he tells himself that the choice is his reward, he knows exactly what he wants. 

So once they reach the bedroom, it’s almost easy to say, “I want to ride you.”

“See, it wasn’t that hard.” From the way Pekka’s eyes darkens, from the flush on his cheeks, from the catch in his voice, Juuse knows he’s gotten him good. And he can’t help but feel a tiny bit of pride that he’s finally getting this right, that maybe he can do this, he can be everything he has to be, no matter how far it is from his real desires. 

And if that feeling is due, in part, to the fact that Pekka’s last words sounded far too close to praise, well. Juuse stubbornly doesn’t think about that. 

Pekka takes half a step, stops himself just shy of reaching for Juuse. Juuse makes an effort not to roll his eyes because it feels ridiculous for Pekka not to touch him whenever he wants to. 

Juuse is so used to those easy touches, so used to feeling like his body is never completely his that he knows that’s something he’ll miss. 

But he can’t let it show. And if his voice is just a little plaintive when he says, “Come here,” he’s sure he’s the only one who notices. 

From there, it’s easier. Taking what he wants instead of politely asking and accepting that it’s never up to him whether he gets it or not will never come naturally to Juuse, but once he makes it clear that he wants Pekka’s hands on him, once he has Pekka holding him close as they kiss, he can. 

He finds tricks, like telling himself that Pekka’s touch is permission to strip them both, that Pekka’s kisses mean it’s okay to steer Pekka exactly where he wants him. He played beautifully, and he deserves his reward. 

And maybe he shouldn’t be seeing it that way. Maybe, if he was a real switch, getting a career-high forty-three saves would have left him firmly in dom space, ready to give both he and Pekka exactly what they want. Ready to be in control the way he was on the ice. 

But that’s not who Juuse is. So he finds a way to pretend, again, the same way he has for months. He hides the fact that, as far as he’s concerned, even when he’s the one on the ice, he’s serving the team. 

He knows that, otherwise, he’ll never have the career he wants. 

Once they’re both naked and he has Pekka flat on his back on the bed, he reins in the enthusiasm he would show if this was a real reward, and gives himself a minute to look. 

As much as Pekka waiting for him to make the next move isn’t something he wants – even the first time they did this, when Pekka was trying so hard not to push him too far, too fast, Juuse had begged him to tell him what to do – he enjoys the view. Pekka is gorgeous, and even like this, with an easy, encouraging smile, their difference in age and size makes Juuse feel like Pekka is a tiger waiting to pounce. 

Fire curls in Juuse’s belly at the thought of being Pekka’s easy, willing prey. 

Tonight, though, he can’t give into that urge. 

He takes one last, long look at Pekka before joining him on the bed. “Put your hands up.” He swallows down the _please_ that comes to him on instinct. Telling Pekka what to do will never come naturally, but maybe he can try. 

Juuse’s breath catches in his throat at the sight of Pekka doing exactly as he says, curling his fingers onto the headboard. He looks so relaxed and trusting that, for the first time, Juuse actually believes he can do this. 

It’s the exact same feeling as when he’s in goal, when he can’t allow himself to get lost inside his own head and only has to focus on the next puck coming his way, and the next. As long as he forgets that he needs to figure this out, that he needs to get this right if he wants to get anywhere, as long as he concentrates only on doing, he can make it work. 

Still, when he joins Pekka on the bed and straddles him, he can’t help but ask, “What do you want?” 

Pekka gives him an easy smile and says, “I want to give you what you want.” He keeps his hands where they are but raises his head, and it’s so easy, suddenly, for Juuse to bring himself down for a quick brush of lips, a tease of breath against Pekka. Even easier when he hears the smallest crack in Pekka’s voice, after. “Please. I’m yours.”

And Juuse wants so badly for that to be true that, for a moment, he allows himself to believe it. 

Another fast kiss and he reaches for the lube, turning his back on Pekka, making him bend his legs so Juuse can lean on him while he pushes the first finger in. Just to be a tease, because he knows that, any other night, Pekka would have grabbed his wrist right before he could thrust in, barely allowing Juuse enough lube before pushing his dick inside Juuse. 

There’s nothing that enjoyable about his own fingers, especially not when compared to Pekka’s. He can never find the right angle and being fingered doesn’t hit the right buttons unless somebody – Pekka, his traitorous mind supplies, only and ever Pekka – is making him take it. 

Still, when he hears Pekka’s sharp intake of breath as he pushes a second finger inside himself, when he looks over his shoulder and sees frustration and tension written on every single muscle of Pekka’s body, he knows how close Pekka’s control is to snapping. 

It won’t, not tonight, not unless Juuse permits it, but knowing that, if he plays his cards right, he might still get exactly what he wants gives Juuse some courage. 

He leans a little more against Pekka’s legs, asks, “You like what you see?” He teases himself with the hint of a third finger, but it’s only a tease. It’s unnecessary, he’s ready, and he loves the sensation of Pekka’s dick in his ass when it feels like too much, like he has to work to let him in. 

“You know I do.” Pekka sounds completely wrecked, and Juuse allows himself to feel a little bit of pride at that. It isn’t as satisfying as Pekka warning him that he will regret it _so much_ if he doesn’t stop teasing, but that works, too. Well enough to surprise Juuse. 

He throws Pekka a smile over his shoulder and asks, again, “What do you want?” 

Pekka tightens his grip on the headboard, like it’s taking everything he has not to move. “I want your ass on my dick. _Please_.” 

The way Pekka adds the plea at the end makes Juuse feel a little better. If he isn’t the only one for who this doesn’t feel natural, if only because they never do things this way, if he isn’t the only one who feels like he’s walking through a thick fog, it will be easier to figure his way out without giving himself away. 

He needs to. 

So he arches an eyebrow, like he wants more, like he doesn’t know the effort it takes Pekka not to order Juuse to stop teasing. Or like he knows, but doesn’t care.

And he waits. 

The fire in Pekka’s eyes almost makes Juuse laugh. It’s the clearest possible sign that Juuse will get exactly what he wants. The only difference being that, this time, it’s Juuse’s job to get them there. 

Maybe, he thinks, maybe he can do this. 

He put justs a little authority in his voice when he says, again, “Tell me what you want.” And if he swallows down another _please_ , if he can’t bring himself to order Pekka to beg, well. Nobody needs to know.

Still, it is a little easier to add, “Let me hear you,” and to mean it, to put just enough weight on the words to make them sound like an order. He watches the shiver that runs through Pekka, stares at him as Pekka remains silent, as if he could will Juuse to do exactly as he wants. 

Any other day, he might have. One look, one word, one gesture would have had Juuse scrambling to obey. Maybe that’s why Pekka isn’t saying anything: he’s just as aware of that as Juuse is and is doing his best not to take over, even though they both desperately want that. 

Because, Juuse reminds himself, Pekka is supposed to be his mentor, not his Dom; the one who shows him the ropes, on and off the ice. If that isn’t enough to satisfy Juuse – and now, thanks to Pekka, he knows it isn’t – he’ll have to find what he wants somewhere else. 

That’s another rule that Juuse repeats to himself all the time, like a mantra, like if he says it enough times, he’ll finally believe it. The relationship between goalies is ever-changing, always depending on who’s on the ice, and who remains on the bench. 

A deep breath, another. Juuse leans on Pekka’s legs, resting his weight on Pekka’s body, ensuring that Pekka has an amazing view of his ass and the slow, leisurely way he’s fucking himself. “Do I have to grab a toy and take care of myself?”

“Don’t you dare.” 

Pekka’s voice is close to a growl. It’s a good thing that Juuse wasn’t looking at him. If he had been, hiding how good the order makes him feel, like Pekka’s word have burrowed under his skin and remained there, would have been impossible. 

Juuse stares at a point on the wall and asks, keeping his voice as flat as he can, “Are you giving me orders?”

He can almost feel the way Pekka deflates. “No, I wasn’t. I’m sorry.” 

Juuse turns around for real, give himself a second to admire the pretty picture Pekka makes, long limbs finally relaxing, harsh grip on the headboard, a blush high on his cheeks. Having Pekka at his beck and call really isn’t that much of a turn-on, not when he knows how perfectly Pekka could turn the tables on him, but even he can’t deny that Pekka is pretty like this. 

He crawls his way up Pekka’s body, until they’re face to face, straddling Pekka again and ignoring Pekka’s hard dick. Gently, almost too gently, he lays a kiss on Pekka’s lips, and says, “I want your dick more than anything else. I want you to fuck me so hard that I forget my own name. I want you to make me come and keep going until you come, too, even if it hurts me. Maybe especially if it hurts.”

The broken sound that comes out of Pekka’s mouth let Juuse know that he has him, right where he wants him. He hides a smile. Maybe, just maybe, he’s finally learning what he was meant to learn all along. 

He doesn’t want this, not really, but if he tells himself that it’s what Pekka wants, that this is the way Pekka wants things to go, maybe he can get it right. 

“But before any of that can happen,” he keeps his voice even, or at least, he tries, “first, you have to ask.”

“Please.” The first word breaks the dam, and suddenly, it seems like Pekka can’t stop. “Please, I want it all, I want to fuck you, I want to make it good, let me, let me, please, please…”

Pekka trails off when Juuse presses a finger to his lips, overwhelmed. It’s too much, too much responsibility, too scary. Yet, as he watches, he notices that Pekka’s eyes are clear as ever. He knows exactly what he’s saying and the effect it will have on Juuse. And the smile he sends Juuse, when Juuse takes away his hand, let Juuse know that he was right to think so. 

Pekka’s still with him, ready to hold Juuse’s hand as much as Juuse needs him to. 

“You’re so good to me,” Juuse says, and he means it, with everything he has. It’s as if Pekka always know exactly what Juuse needs. 

“Please,” Pekka says again, a little more playful, as if this role reversal is just a game, and not something that Juuse desperately needs to get right in order for his dreams to come true. 

And it’s easier, if he thinks of it like that, if he tells himself that it’s a game, that this is something that’s just between the two of them, without his future hanging in the balance. 

He presses another kiss to Pekka’s lips, trying to say without words how grateful he is for everything, before he takes hold of Pekka’s dick and line him up. 

“Don’t move,” he warns as he takes Pekka inside, feeling another hint of pride at the way Pekka’s mouth opens on a gasp. 

“Hold me,” he asks next, because denying Pekka would also be denying himself. 

Almost immediately, Pekka reaches for Juuse’s hips, providing the gentle guidance that Pekka never seem to be able to contain, even in the rare instances when he orders Juuse to ride him. 

Other than that, though, Pekka remains immobile, the tension in his muscles, in his whole body the only hint of how difficult this is for him. 

And just like sometimes on the ice, the knowledge that Pekka believes he can do this is enough to propel Juuse forward, to make him feel stronger. 

He shoves away the part of him that still wishes he was kneeling at Pekka’s feet and gives himself the freedom to move, as if Pekka’s gentle hold on him was Pekka giving him permission and not exactly what Juuse told him to do. 

He breathes through the amazing burn of a little too much, a little too fast, and starts to move, slow and careful, under the pretense of not hurting himself. He rests his hands on Pekka’s shoulder, in part to keep his balance, and in part to feel Pekka restraining himself in order not to move. 

By now, Juuse knows exactly where Pekka’s breaking point is, knows exactly how far he can push. And he has to admit that it’s fun to tease him while knowing that the consequences will be only what he wants them to be. 

“Please, Juuse.”

The plea almost makes Juuse’s heart stop. But all he does is offer Pekka a smile and ask, “Can you wait a little more?” And maybe he shouldn’t ask, but he thinks he’s doing well enough that the question will seem like he’s being responsible more than unsure. 

Pekka sucks in a breath and says, “Yes. Of course I can.” 

“Not yet, then.” And it’s worth it, if only to feel Pekka tighten his grip a little more, to know that he’ll leave marks that Juuse will have earned as much as the bruises he collects on the ice. It’s worth it, to feel how much Pekka is willing to take, if only because Juuse wills it so. 

Because, in that moment, it doesn’t matter that it’s Pekka; he almost feels like he can do this, for real. He doesn’t think he will ever want it, not the way Pekka obviously does when it’s him on the ice, but maybe he can figure out how to make this work. 

He wants nothing more than to feel Pekka pulling him down as he thrusts, but instead, he slows down a little more. He doesn’t try to find the right angle, doesn’t care that, even for him, it doesn’t feel that good. All he wants is to tease and push, as far as he can, now that he’s allowed. 

Yet the only thing that makes this work for him is the tight grip Pekka has on his hips, the illusion that he’s only doing this because it’s what Pekka wants, what Pekka asked of him. And since Juuse likes to tease, he does just that, but he couldn’t even say if he’s teasing Pekka or himself. 

Maybe both. Most likely, both. 

He watches Pekka’s eyes flutter shut, feels another burst of pride at the idea that he did this. The amount of trust it takes is both humbling and overwhelming, and panic bubbles up in Juuse’s throat. Before he go right up to the other side and screw this up, he bends over Pekka again, brushes his lips against Pekka’s cheek, his heart tripping in his chest when he feels the lone tears that has leaked from Pekka’s eye, and says, “Now, Pekka. Give it to me.” 

Seconds later, he’s flat on his back, with Pekka over him. Without hesitation, Juuse locks his legs around Pekka’s hips, even as he reaches for his cock. “Go ahead. Make me come and don’t stop.” 

“You sure about that?” 

Juuse should tell him off for that question, he knows that. He’s supposed to be in control, but right now, that’s the last thing he wants. Still, because it’s a real question, it’s easy to reach up to kiss Pekka again, as if forgiving him, and to say, “You know how much I love it when you hurt me. Go ahead. That’s what I want.” And this time, there’s no plea to shove down, no need for him to pretend to himself that he’s asking, as sweetly as he can, because for once, he isn’t. 

For once, he’s telling and knowing that will give him exactly what he wants. As much as he loves when Pekka calls him a brat, when he has to deal with the consequences of overstepping his bounds, there’s a definite appeal to being able to say he want something and never have to wonder if he will get it or not. 

And, if Pekka’s cheeky smile is any indication when he says, teasingly, “Yes, sir,” and gets to work, he finds it just as appealing. 

Juuse clings to Pekka, in a way he wasn’t sure he could allow himself, not today, but it’s so, so perfect that he can’t resist. Pekka knows him by now, inside and out, knows exactly what he loves and what he doesn’t, and how to give it to him. 

And he knows that Pekka has thrown out any semblance of control, when he hauls one of Juuse’s leg up over his arm as he lines himself up again, opening Juuse and taking the permission to chase his own orgasm inside Juuse’s body. 

He can’t help the broken sound that makes its way out of his mouth when Pekka hits all the right spots in steady, harsh thrusts. He reaches down to grab his dick, not sure if he wants to make himself come faster or if he wants to slow things down. He feels close, finally, in a way that ordering Pekka around couldn’t have brought him to. 

He tilts his head and Pekka gladly captures his mouth. Deep in the confines of his own mind, Juuse knows that Pekka’s only taking what Juuse’s offering, that he’s reaching for everything he can get, everything Juuse will grant him but wouldn’t ask for more, not here and now. 

But he forces himself not to think about it, to allow himself only his feelings as he’s devoured in perfect kisses, Pekka fucking him in a way that he knows he will feel for days, his own hand stroking his cock, with the little twist on the head that brings him close to the edge, so close. 

Until he tumbles over, coming all over his own hand, all over Pekka, and Pekka merely offers him a smile, just a little mean, now, the kind of smile that Juuse both hates and loves. He almost tears his hand away from his cock – give it a minute, maybe less, and he will be too sensitive for any kind of touch to be pleasurable. He grabs onto Pekka’s shoulders and holds on for the ride. 

Tears well up in Juuse’s eyes. He’s too sensitive, already, but it’s the most perfect kind of pain, the one that comes from knowing that he can give Pekka exactly what he wants. 

Pekka hasn’t lost his rhythm, not yet, his thrusts almost brutal, now. Any other moment, Juuse would know that this is one of those times when Pekka finally lets go, when his perfect control slips and he allows himself to use Juuse’s body in exactly the way Juuse wishes he would, exactly the way Juuse begs him to, sometimes. 

Here and now, though, Juuse finally remembers that it’s all up to him. Still he waits, just a little more, because the sound Pekka makes, when he’s desperately trying not to come, to give Juuse exactly what he asked for, even though Juuse’s body is tight and hot and perfect around him, is a lot hotter than Juuse would have expected. 

So he holds on for as long as he can, he waits until he really can’t stand it, until he knows that, if things were the other way around, he would be safewording out already, and he says, his voice as broken as he feels, “You can come whenever you want.” 

“Thank you.” 

The words hurt, a lot more than the sudden erratic rhythm of Pekka’s thrusts, more than the way Pekka buries himself inside Juuse’s body and grinds. Juuse blinks away more tears. He doesn’t want that kind of power over Pekka, he never had, he never will. 

In Milwaukee, he could play the game, he could pretend. With Pekka, it’s the last thing he wants. 

The soft glow of his orgasm, the satisfying feeling he usually gets when Pekka comes deep inside him, is nowhere to be found. Instead, Juuse’s stomach churns, and he bites his tongue to hold in the _Did I do good, Daddy?_ that comes to him on instinct. 

Because that’s what he’s wanted, almost since the moment he met Pekka, during Worlds. At the very least since his first call-up to Nashville. To have Pekka call him his, in every possible sense of the word. 

Pekka was meant to be his mentor. The one who would teach him everything he needs to know, on and off the ice. 

And now, as he waits for Pekka to come back down, as he rubs his hands in gentle circles over Pekka’s skin, Juuse knows that, when everything is said and done, that’s all today will be. And that, when Pekka asks him how it went for him, he can’t say that he doesn’t want to do this, not ever again, or at least, not with Pekka. If he says that, he will need to explain why. And if he does, well…

There’s no guarantee that, the next time Nashville sends him down to Milwaukee, they will call him back up again. 

So he plays pretend, again, keeping a gentle touch on Pekka’s skin, waiting for Pekka to blink his eyes open and offer him the smile he reserves for when Juuse has done especially well. 

Later, there will be water and snacks to share. Juuse knows that, afterward, they will fall asleep in each other’s arms. 

For now, though, Juuse clings to Pekka a lot more than Pekka does to him, and is glad when Pekka doesn’t call him out on it. 

Maybe he’s, once again, attributing Juuse’s reaction to his lack of experience. Which is a good thing. If Pekka doesn’t ask, Juuse doesn’t need to lie. 

Because as much as he would want to, he knows he can never, ever tell Pekka the truth.

**Author's Note:**

> -After a gorgeous win, Juuse has no choice but to dominate Pekka. It's the last thing he wants, but if he admits that, he might destroy his chance of ever being a no 1 goalie. So he goes through with it.  
> -However, Pekka is completely unaware of what is going on on Juuse's side and is sure that this is perfectly consensual.


End file.
